In Search of Lost Time: Aldhelm and The Ruin Christopher Abram Robinson College, Cambridge The Ruin – which it is almost traditional to describe as a ruin itself, as bad fire damage has obliterated large parts of the text in the Exeter Book – is a meditation on that most Anglo-Saxon of preoccupations: the transitoriness of worldly glory.1 It takes the form of an extended description of an urban scene which alternates between the physical decay which confronts the poet in the present and an imagining, inspired by this vision, of what the city must have been like in the past. It is a poem of contrasts: between then and now, between a living city and a ruined shell, between the city as a collection of buildings and the city as a body of people with a corporate life. These contrasts serve to build up a unique sense of lost time, for not only does the author of The Ruin construct his own conception of the past, but he does so by examining the past constructions of other people. In this paper I shall argue that, whether or not it is a description of an actual location – which most scholars take to be the Roman city of Bath, owing to the reference to hot streams in lines 43 and 462 – 1 See C. E. Fell, ‘Perceptions of Transience’, The Cambridge Companion to Old English Literature, ed. M. Godden and M. Lapidge (Cambridge, 1991), pp. 172–89. 2 K. P. Wentersdorf, ‘Observations on The Ruin’, MÆ 46 (1977), 171–80, offers 23 Christopher Abram The Ruin is itself a construction, an edifice of literary building-blocks which have been quarried from the works of past authors.3 In particular, I shall examine the possible role of Latin tradition in the formation of the Ruin-poet’s vision of the past and his poetic sensibility. I think this approach may be helpful, as The Ruin’s peculiarities of theme and style have not successfully been explained by purely vernacular referents: although it is true that The Ruin shares an elegiac mood with the other texts from the Exeter Book which have been designated as elegies, there are also important differences between 4 this group and The Ruin. The Ruin does not make use of ectopoeia, the the fullest exposition of the compelling archaeological evidence in favour of Bath; this conclusion was first reached in the nineteenth century by H. Leo, Carmen Anglo-Saxonicum in Codice Exonienis servatum, quod vulgo inscribitur ‘Ruinae’ (Halle, 1865), and J. Earle, ‘An Ancient Saxon Poem of a City in Ruins, supposed to be Bath’, Proc. of the Bath Nat. Hist. and Antiquities Field Club 2 (1870–3), 259–70; alternative suggestions have since been made by G. W. Dunleavy, ‘A “De Excidio” Tradition in the Old English Ruin?’, PQ 38 (1959), 112–18, who favours Chester, and S. J. Herben, ‘The Ruin’, Modern Language Notes 54 (1939), 37–9, who suggests Hadrian’s wall. Critics have also argued against The Ruin being a description of a specific location: see H. T. Keenan, ‘The Ruin as Babylon’, Tennessee Stud. In Lit. 11 (1966), 109–17; A. T. Lee, ‘The Ruin: Bath or Babylon? A Non-archaeological Investigation’, NM 74 (1973), 443–55; and W. Johnson, ‘The Ruin as Body–City Riddle’, PQ 59 (1980), 397–411. 3 For the purposes of argument I accept here the traditional eighth-century dating of The Ruin given by R. F. Leslie, Three Old English Elegies (Manchester, 1961), p. 35, although there has been no consensus on this matter. 4 The genre distinction is a problematic one: on this see J. Harris, ‘Elegy in Old English and Old Norse: a Problem in Literary History’, The Old English Elegies: New Essays in Criticism and Research, ed. M. Green (Cranbury, NJ, 1983), pp. 46– 56. The corpus of Exeter Book poems traditionally regarded as elegies consists of The Wanderer, The Seafarer, The Riming Poem, Deor, Wulf and Eadwacer, The Wife’s 24 In Search of Lost Time: Aldhelm and The Ruin trope of speaking through an imagined person, and it does not constitute a lament.5 Whereas the other elegies tend towards thoughts of consolation at the end, The Ruin – although the final section is so badly damaged that it is hard to say for sure – continues merely to describe the past life of the imagined inhabitants of the city. It features one of the most potent images of the Anglo-Saxon elegy – the remains of a past civilization crumbling under the inescapable pressure of fate (made explicit in The Ruin in line 24: oþþæt þæt onwende wyrd seo swiþe)6 – but, while The Wanderer, probably the locus classicus of this motif, relates this general decay to the eardstapa’s personal lament for his own vanished way of life, The Ruin takes this image and expands it with unparalleled detail of the remains themselves, making the overall tone of the poem – in the words of R. F. Leslie – ‘an imaginative nostalgia for a glorious past, stimulated by a particular scene spread out before the poet’s eyes’.7 The overall theme, much more so than in the personal elegies, is simply sic transit gloria mundi. A model for this type of text can be found in variants upon the encomium urbis theme: there are abundant late Latin examples of poems in praise of a city which, like The Ruin, describe in great detail Lament, Resignation, The Husband’s Message and The Ruin. See the discussion of elegy as a classification, rather than as a genre per se, in A. L. Klinck, The Old English Elegies: an Edition and Genre Study (Montreal, 1992), pp. 13–14. 5 The classic definition of the characteristics of Old English ‘elegy’ is that of Greenfield: ‘a relatively short reflective or dramatic poem embodying a contrasting pattern of loss and consolation, ostensibly based upon a specific personal experience or observation, and expressing an attitude towards that experience’. S. B. Greenfield, ‘The Old English Elegies’, Continuations and Beginnings: Studies in Old English Literature, ed. E. G. Stanley (London, 1966), pp. 142–75, at 143. 6 See B. J. Timmer, ‘Wyrd in Anglo-Saxon Prose and Poetry’, Neophilologus 26 (1941), 24–33 and 213–28. The Ruin is quoted from ASPR III, 227–9. 7 Leslie, Three Old English Elegies, p. 3. 25 Christopher Abram the city’s architectural features and often the lives of its inhabitants.8 This genre, which was codified in the works of Menander the Rhetorician around 300, was described in the eighth century in a rhetorical tract:9 Urbium laudem primum conditoris dignitas ornat idque aut ad homines inlustres pertinet aut etiam ad deos, ut Athenas a Minerva dicitur constitutas: et ne fabulosa potius quam vera videantur. Secundus est de specie moenium locus et situs, qui aut terrenus est aut maritimus et in monte vel in plano: tertius de fecunditate agrorum, largite fontium, moribus incolarum: tum de his ornamentis, quae postea accesserint, aut felicitate, si res sponte ortae sint et prolatae aut virtute et armis et bello propagatae. Laudamus etiam illud, si ea civitas habuerit plurimos nobiles viros, quorum gloria lucem praebeat universis.10 The city described in The Ruin is praised in similar terms: the walls are mentioned in the first line, where they are described as wrætlic ‘wondrous’, even though wyrd ‘fate’ has shattered them. Other 8 See P. Zanna, ‘ “Descriptiones urbium” and Elegy in Latin and Vernaculars in the Early Middle Ages. At the Crossroads between Civic Engagement, Artistic Enthusiasm and Religious Meditation’, SM 3rd ser. 32 (1991), 523–96. 9 Now Paris, Bibliothèque Nationale, Latin 7530, which contains a number of miscellaneous excerpts from rhetorical texts. 10 Rhetores Latini Minores, ed. K. F. Halm (Leipzig, 1863), p. 587. ‘The founder’s dignity furnishes the first praise of cities, and it pertains to famous men or even to gods, as Athens is said to have been founded by Minerva: and these things should not seem to be fabulous, but rather true. The second relates to the appearance of the walls and the location of the site, which is either inland or coastal, in the mountains or on a plain; the third relates to the fertility of the fields, the abundance of springs, the customs of the inhabitants: then, about the distinctions which they might have later acquired, either by good fortune (if these things came about and increased by themselves), or were augmented by prowess in arms and war. And if this city had many noble men, whose glory furnished light to everyone, that we praise likewise.’ 26 In Search of Lost Time: Aldhelm and The Ruin architectural features – roofs, arches, gates – are described, which would also fall into the ‘second praise’ of the city. The customs of the departed troops of men may have a particularly Germanic ring to them in The Ruin, with its description of meodoheall monig mondreama full ‘many a mead-hall, filled with the joys of men’ (line 23), but it fits the pattern of the encomium. We know that the inhabitants of the city were a martial people, and a noble people: they wear armour as, proud and flushed with wine, they look upon treasure, silver, on costly stones, on wealth, on property, on this precious jewel, this bright city in this broad kingdom (32b–38). Even after long years of decay, it is this impression of glory which comes to captivate the author of The Ruin. There is no evidence that the works of Menander the Rhetorician or the eighth-century Frankish text quoted above were known in Anglo-Saxon England, and yet the encomium urbis was a genre of which the Anglo-Saxons were certainly aware.11 The late Old English poem Durham, for example, is a neat exposition of the rhetorical device in an English context: it briefly describes Durham’s location, dwelling once again upon the waterways in the vicinity, and specifying that there are stone constructions in the city.